Dragon Age: A Grey Wind
by illmanners
Summary: Origin story for my Adaar inquisitor "Grey Wind". A Qunari child abandoned at birth, trying the fit into the human society filled with constant dangers. When a childhood friend discovers her magical talents, Grey must flee for his life after causing the death of a pursuing Templar. On the run, his adventures take him from Deep Roads to the palace of Denerim
1. Lilac Eyes

Blood dripped down her festering wound, the improvised bandaged now completely stained crimson. She limped very slowly, knowing each step could be her very last: but she must not fail him. With one hand applying pressure to her wound, the other cradled a babe wrapped tightly in the warm hide of a wolf. As life drifted away from her, in front of her very own eyes, a glance down at her new born child gave her the desire to carry on. But carry on her where, she thought. The nearest village would be miles from here, the closest city even further than that: the price to pay for being on the run. Despite the inevitable, she became determined to continue moving forward. With renewed vigour, the limping Qunari managed a mile before she knew her body could take them no further. She lay against the back of a tree stump on the side of a road, and looked down at her baby. She hadn't even had the time to name him, before the hunters finally found their prey. His little horns glistened in the moonlit sky, barely the length of an inch. They had the smallest of ridges in them, curving in and out like a great river. When she looked into his eyes, she couldn't help but see his father. A faint shade of lilac, so light it was almost grey. Beautiful, strong and healthy, all she could've wanted for her child. The child with no name. He looked up so innocently at her, smiling ever so slightly, and cheeks turning a rosy red. Tears began to form in her eyes, but she managed to push them back. Her eyes were sore, she could no longer feel her legs and her chest burned like a great forge. Drifting in and out of conscience, she unsheathed her dagger and brought it close to her child's neck; trembling and shaking hands couldn't keep the blade steady. "We have failed you..." She cried, "I have failed you." The cold edge of the blade pressed against the innocent face of the child, she began to twist the blade...but she couldn't bring herself to do it. With a whimpering cry she stabbed the blade into the dusty ground beside her, and drifted into a dreamless sleep. She was awoken by the shrieking neigh of two horses. Her vision was blurred, but she could make out two figures dressed in fine leathers and colourful silks. One of figures jumped off his horse and ran over to her. It was too dark to see his facial features, but he was a tall man, wearing expensive drake-skin armour, a cape draped over his left shoulder with a sigil she struggled to recognise, and a elegant red-steel sword clung to his right thigh. "Honey, she's badly wounded, bring over something to ease the pain." The man ordered as he knelt down by her and inspected the wound. "It is...too late...for me, my friend." She stated wearily, blood coughing out of her mouth. The other figure raced over, and poured some medicine into her blistered mouth. The figure was a slim woman wearing an intricate silk top, riding trousers and a short-bow strapped to her back. The two of them looked at each other, knowing the terrible fate of the stranger they did not know. "Is there..anything we can do for you?" He eventually asked. She shook her head, slowly. "Too late...for me." She faced reality and the approaching darkness, "but...not..for...him." She grasped the wolf hide with aching bones and fear in her dying eyes, and handed him to the woman she scarcely knew. The man looked over her shoulder, to see a smiling Qunari babe, his lilac pools now brighter than the richest amethysts. He nodded to the dying mother and the two of them made their way to the horses. As they rode off into the dawn, she could see his purple eyes glistening in the early morning sun. Her beautiful baby boy. The boy she did not have the time to name.


	2. A Decade On

The sound of giggling laughter accompanied with the cheerful bark of a Mabari hound echoed through the walls of the castle. The horde of laughing children charged down the castle courtyard, stormed through the Great Hall, and finally stopped when they reached the maze gardens. "I'm the captain! I'm the captain!" Little Tommy exclaimed. "So am I!" Jack shouted with equal enthusiasm. The two excited boys hopped along in front of the rest of their friends. "Who gets first pick?" Sofi asked eagerly. "I do because I'm the oldest." Little Tommy said proudly. He was the oldest, by two name days, but he certainly wasn't the tallest. "No fair! That means you get Grey!" Jack protested, stamping his feet on the stone slab floor. "Yes it does, Jacky! I pick...um..Grey! Haha!" Little Tommy smirked and pointed at Grey. This was Greys favourite time of day. The daily schooling was finished, dinner was roasting, and to pass time the children of the castle would gather together and play a great game of chase. Most of the children would never willingly speak to him any other time throughout the day. They were too intimidated by his appearance, and jealous of the affection doted upon him by Lord and Lady Oswin. Yet, despite his intimidating physic, he was fast...very fast; especially when you take into consideration the size of him when compared to the rest of the children. Lady Oswin takes great pride in claiming Grey ran before he learned to walk, and there was an element of inspiration in watching him sprint. Faster than any of the children of the great castle: even faster than the Mabari hounds of their kennels. The kitchen staff of the castle started a joke that you'd only know Grey had run past you if you'd seen a gust of grey wind. "Grey Wind" quickly became his nickname within the citizens of the great Oswin Keep, and now that is has how people refer to him to his very day.

Although the children may fear and resent him somewhat, Grey was always the first one chosen when playing games. But they had to be careful when chasing after Grey, or risk losing an eye. His horns were now the size of a longswords hilt, and they continued to grow with his tenth name day approaching. Truthfully, it wasn't his exact name day, but the day Lord and Lady Oswin of the Bannorn rescued him from the side of a dusty road. "Tell your Mabari to go away, Grey! It's unfair on us." Sofi sulked. "Maybe whoever doesn't get Grey on their team gets his Mabari!" Calum eagerly suggested. "Try and separate them then Cal, I dare you...double dare you. He won't leave Grey for longer then a minute; try putting him against him!" Rickon joked. But there was some truth to it, if that Mabari had his way he'd be at Winds side every hour of every day. He adored Wind, and sometimes he had the urge to snap at the other children when they neglected him. But he's an extremely capable Mabari. Smart enough to know what it would mean if he attacked the lordlings of the castle. Smart to know that Grey saved his life, which is why he won't leave him willingly. His previous owner died a half decade ago in a terrible hunting incident, and the castle staff didn't know what to do with him. The process of imprinting results in a fiercely loyal Mabari to only a single master, and with his master dead, he isolated himself from the rest of the kennel. A year on from the death of his master, one of the other Mabari's had a large litter of twenty. There wasn't enough food for all of the now expanded kennel, and killing him was the most logically, albeit cold, option. A soldier signalled to him to leave the kennel and follow: he knew what was about to unfold. He didn't like it, but he wanted to rejoin his master. Just as the soldier closed his eyes and raised his blade, a faint yet violent cry echoed through the castle. The soldier opened his eyes to witness a small grey Qunari sprinting towards them. Wind stood in between the sword and the Mabari, sheltering him from the fatal swing. "No! Why you hurting him?" The four year old cried. "I won't let you hurt him!" The Mabari was very confused: he had never seen this young child before yet he risked his life for him. The soldier lowered his weapon and walked away with a tear in his eye. "You okay?" Wind asked innocently. The Mabari jumped on him ecstatically and licked his face until three inches of saliva rolled down his cheeks. Witnesses say they were surprised the Mabari didn't fly off the ground the rate his tail was wagging. Grey wiped the dogs slobber off his face, which then stuck to his hands. He ruffled the dogs head to try and get most of it off, which formed a small tuft of hair to stick up. "Haha! Tuft." Wind giggled, and from that day until his last, that was his name


End file.
